


Parcheesi

by unfolded73



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Lieutenant Killian Jones/Princess Emma Swan, Loss of Virginity, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-04 00:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13352961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unfolded73/pseuds/unfolded73
Summary: I summarized this on tumblr as Princess Emma's voyage of sexual self-discovery. Now a complete 3-parter and posted as a separate fic.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> The first 2 chapters of this fic were previously posted as chapters in a prompt compilation. Upon publishing the 3rd chapter, I have reposted the whole thing separately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: CS and being wayyyyyyy over competitive while playing a board game with Killian winning, Emma being a poor loser, and Killian unapologetic but still willing to ‘make it up to her.’ ;) Smutty!
> 
> My notes: So this settled into my brain as a Lieutenant Duckling AU for some reason? Hope that’s okay, anon! It is, as requested, smutty.

Princess Emma hated Parcheesi.

She hated that it relied so much on luck because she didn’t consider herself a particularly lucky person. She hated how angry she got when she rolled poorly. She hated the white-hot rage that coursed through her when her opponent landed on the same space as her piece and sent her piece back home.

She hated that her opponent, giving her a smug grin right now over the board as he prepared to throw the dice, was Lieutenant Killian Jones.

The dice rolled to a stop.

“Double fours!” he crowed. Granny, sitting on the opposite side of the parlor and sound asleep, snored audibly.

“I hate you,” Emma whispered with a quick glance over at their supposed chaperone.

“You don’t hate me, Princess,” Killian said as he moved two of his pieces. “You’ve adored me since that day I saved you from drowning in the harbor.”

“I was hardly drowning. My gown was heavy, but I could’ve pulled myself out before I drowned.” He rolled the dice again and Emma crossed her arms. They’d had this argument a hundred times if they’d had it once. She’d been eight years old, accompanying her father, King David, to watch the commissioning ceremony for a new ship in the royal fleet. Antsy with the pomp and circumstance, the princess had pulled away from her governess and ran, but her foot slipped on the wet boards and she fell into the harbor. She could swim, but the sudden shock of icy water and the heaviness of her sodden gown made her panicked and confused about which way was up. Then just as suddenly, she felt an arm around her waist and a few seconds later, her head broke the surface.

Her savior had been eleven-year-old Killian Jones, an indentured servant on a merchant ship that happened to be docked next to the new naval vessel. Her father was so grateful for his quick reaction and bravery that the crown had paid for both Killian and his brother Liam to be freed from their servitude. Liam had joined the Navy not long after that, Killian following in his brother’s footsteps when he was old enough.

Killian and Emma had been friends ever since, even if they did dispute whether the incident that brought them together had been life-threatening.

“Anyway, I _do_ hate you.” Finally, it was her turn, and she snatched the dice out of Killian’s upturned palm and rattled them in her hand. “I should have the guards throw you out of the palace.”

He gave her a pouty frown. “But I’m here at the invitation of your mother, the Queen.”

Emma rolled the dice. A one and a three. Sighing, she moved her pieces. “I hate this game.”

“Well, _that’s_ certainly true, but the weather is too unpleasant for a walk in the garden.”

Flushing, Emma looked away from Killian’s too-blue eyes and stared down, the pieces doubling in her vision as she gazed unfocusing at the board. 

It had been two weeks ago that it happened. 

He’d called on her as he did occasionally, her oldest, dearest friend Killian, almost her _only_ friend when she was a coltish teenager who didn’t fit in with the other noble girls her age because she was too rowdy, too likely to say out loud what she was thinking, too interested in swords and not interested enough in dancing. So there was nothing unusual about Killian visiting the palace; he did so often when he was in port. On that particular Sunday, they had chosen to go for a walk in the garden. Granny was supposed to be chaperoning them, but as she usually did, she’d parked herself on a bench with her knitting, leaving them to wander the well-tended paths unsupervised.

“I need the dice back, Princess,” Killian said. He held his hand out, the dark hair from the back of his hand just visible near the edge of his palm. Something about that dark hair made Emma’s heartbeat pick up speed. 

Emma felt the sudden urge to throw the dice at him. Instead, she carefully placed them in his hand, flashing him a sickeningly sweet smile.

 _“I’m sorry I missed your birthday,” he said as they meandered slowly between two rows of willow trees._

_Emma shrugged. She’d been sorry too; it was her nineteenth, but she understood that he couldn’t control when his ship was out at sea. “You didn’t miss much. Cake, presents, a boring ball.”_

_Killian stopped walking, taking her hand. Which in and of itself wasn’t unusual, but it seemed like something shifted in her chest this time when she felt the skin of his palm against hers. “Still. I would have liked to have danced with you.”_

_“I hate dancing,” she answered automatically because it’s what she always said. It’s what she’d always thought, right?_

_“You’d like dancing with me,” he said with just enough false bravado to make her laugh and smack his arm._

_Emma felt a pull toward Killian like he was exerting some kind of gravitational force on her. He wore his uniform, perfectly starched and pressed, and it made her a little bit dizzy to look at him in it. It kind of always had, since she’d been fifteen, standing in the front row at his commissioning and wondering why she felt so much like crying._

_“I have no interest in dancing with you,” she said, even as she felt herself smiling almost against her will, felt herself stepping closer to him, the front of her dress brushing against his uniform._

_Killian lifted the hand he was holding into the air, putting his other hand on her waist. It seemed like it was searing her through the bodice of her gown. “Then why are you dancing with me now?” he asked, his eyes twinkling._

_“I’m not,” she said, but when he began to move in a slow circle, she put her hand on his shoulder (it was hard to feel his shoulder muscles under his thick coat the way she wanted to, not that she’d imagined anything like this before, no of course she hadn’t) and followed his lead._

_“You are.”_

_“Shut up.”_

_“Make me.”_

_Thinking only of wiping the knowing smirk off his face, Emma leaned in and pressed her lips to Killian’s._

_Princess Emma had only kissed one other person in her life. The previous year, Baelfire, the son of the Dark One, had courted her. Her parents had obviously mixed feelings about such a match, but they had told her it was her decision, and that if she truly loved him, they would support her choice. Emma had thought Baelfire was everything she wanted, but in the end, he had broken her heart._

_At first, she felt Killian freeze, and then he seemed to melt into her, pulling her closer with the hand on her waist and moving his lips against hers, soft and coaxing. It was everything she’d hoped kissing would feel like. Everything it hadn’t felt like with Baelfire._

_Then it hit her like a ton of bricks. She was kissing Killian Jones. Emma jerked back, her hand going unconsciously to her lips._

_She watched Killian’s face crumple._

_“My princess, I do apologize. That was… I should not have done that, it was bad form. I had no right--”_

_“_ I _kissed_ you _,” she corrected him and then winced. Couldn’t she for once have a thought without saying it out loud?_

_Killian cleared his throat. “Nonetheless, we cannot… It isn’t my place to be so forward with you. I’m not… I’m no one. You’re the bloody princess of Misthaven.”_

_“So?”_

Killian rolled the dice and moved one of his pieces until it landed on the spot where her leading piece sat, only a spare few spaces from the safety of her home row.

A younger Emma might have flipped the board. She considered it the height of maturity that instead, she stood up, rather calmly if she did say so herself, and stepped back from the table. “I quit. You win.”

“Emma--”

“I’m feeling rather tired,” she said, and she’d meant it as an excuse but she realized she _did_ feel tired. Tired of being a princess, tired of holding herself still when she really wanted to run, tired of entertaining people by playing stupid board games when she’d really rather just… “If you’ll excuse me.” She turned on her heel and left the parlor, intent on making her way the few doors down the hall to her bedchamber, where she could fall apart in peace.

The heavy door to her bedroom was almost closed when Killian’s hand shot out and stopped it, his fingers pinched between the door and the doorjamb. She jerked the door back open and watched as he grimaced, holding his fingers with his other hand and shifting back and forth on his feet.

“That looked like it hurt,” she said impassively.

“It bloody well did.”

“That was a stupid thing to do,” she said, pulling him into her room and closing the door.

“I wasn’t thinking.” He looked around like a skittish colt, the whites of his eyes visible. “And I definitely should not be in here. Granny will kill me, and then have me locked in the dungeon, and then kill me again for good measure.”

“Granny’s going to be napping for a while yet.”

“And then your father will kill me too.”

“My father’s in council meetings all afternoon. Let me see your hand.” She held her own hand out.

Killian shook his injured hand like he was trying to bring feeling back into his fingers. “It’s fine.”

“Killian, let me--”

“I said it’s fine.”

“Why are you pretending like nothing happened?” _Oh, well done, Emma,_ she thought, wishing for a trap door she could fall through. Maybe she could hide in the dungeon Killian was so convinced he was bound for.

“What?”

“Why are you pretending that everything’s normal, and that last time we didn’t…”

Killian reached up and scratched behind his ear, shifting from foot to foot. “Because I shouldn’t have allowed it to happen.”

“Wow, could you be a little more patronizing? _Allowed?_ ”

He huffed in frustration. “I just mean… you’re the princess. As much as I would want it to be so, you and I can never be.”

 _As much as I would want it to be so_ , that was all she heard. “My father was a shepherd.”

“ _They_ don’t know that. They think he was King George’s son.” Killian gestured at the window, indicating the wider world and the ‘they’ who would care who she was paired with. Who would care that she’s a princess and he used to be a deckhand.

“But _my parents_ know.” She took a step toward him. “They know that love isn’t always politically expedient.” And then she slapped her hands over her mouth and groaned. “Why do words just spill out of my mouth like that?” 

The smile that bloomed on Killian’s face was a remarkably lovely thing to see. “I adore that words just spill out of your mouth like that. And Emma…” Now it was his turn to step toward her. “Surely you know how hopelessly in love with you I am, don’t you?”

Her head felt fizzy, like the top of it was just going to pop off. “How would I know that? You never said.” 

“It never occurred to me that you would return my affection. And after last time, I was certain that even if you did return my feelings, we could never--”

“Killian, shut up,” she said, pouncing on him.

She’d thought after the last time that she’d been awakened to what kissing was supposed to feel like.

Killian very quickly proved her wrong.

Emma did her best to follow his lead, opening her mouth when he did, licking his tongue with hers when she felt his tongue in her mouth. Ruby had explained all this to her in lurid detail, of course, the two of them hiding out down in the kitchen and sneaking cookies, but it was one thing to be told about kissing and it was another to experience it. Emma felt like her knees might give out and that she might just collapse to the floor if Killian wasn’t holding her up.

“Wow,” she said against his lips when they finally came up for air.

“Aye. My thoughts exactly.”

~*~

He wanted to wait before telling her parents.

Killian was expecting a promotion in a few months, and for some frustrating reason, he felt he’d be in slightly better standing with the king and queen with one more gold bar on his shoulder. Emma thought that was stupid, and she told him so on multiple occasions, mostly while they avoided Granny and snuck stolen kisses and touches in every empty palace room Emma could manage to push him into when no one was watching them. 

“I just want to get on with our lives,” she whispered as they stood together in an unused music room dominated by a piano covered with a white sheet. Emma had never taken much to music lessons. She was probably the least accomplished princess she knew, at least when it came to traditionally princessy activities. When it came to wielding a sword or shooting a bow, she was second to none.

She bit at Killian’s lip, her hand snaking down to the front of his very white trousers. As it turned out, there was one other thing she was good at.

He let his head fall back against the wall, groaning softly. “There’s nothing I’d like more,” he said, his hips pressing against her hand. She felt the outline of his cock, stiff and straining inside his trousers, and she blushed, thinking for the millionth time of what it would be like when they could finally be together in bed as husband and wife. Emma was both terrified of the prospect (because he felt so big in her hand, and was he really going to fit inside her the way she’d been told?), and impatient for that day to finally come. 

“Just a few more weeks,” he continued, his hand cupping her breast through the bodice of her gown. “I will… _gods, Emma,_ ” he gasped. “I will ask your father for your hand in marriage. And if he agrees, I’ll be down on one knee before you know what’s hit you.”

“I’m going to say yes,” she gasped as his fingers rolled against her nipple through her dress.

“That’s good.”

Her hips pressed against his leg, seeking pressure to relieve the burning want between her thighs but thwarted by the thick layers of fabric of her dress. Killian continued the torturous fondling of her breast, and Emma groaned in frustration.

(After an afternoon like this, she would often turn in early, eager to relieve the need that made her feel like her skin was going to peel off as she sat at the dinner table with her family, mildly sipping her soup course. She would find her shift wet with her own arousal, and would rub desperately at herself until her pleasure peaked, her thoughts always on Killian. His eyes and his profile and the way his legs looked in his polished black boots. The way the dark hair on the backs of his hands hinted at dark hair other places that she desperately wanted to see.)

“You all right, love?” he asked, taking her hand off of his groin and kissing her palm. He never allowed her to get very far with her explorations down there, another source of her frustration. 

No, she wasn’t all right. She was out of her mind with wanting him. She panted into the narrow space between them, her hips moving fruitlessly. “I just need… I need…” She didn’t know how to articulate it. She needed to climax, but she had no idea what to ask him for. They couldn’t have sex before they were even engaged, that would be the height of foolishness. There could be no greater scandal than an unwed princess, heavy with child.

“Come here, darling,” he said, taking her hand and leading her over to the piano bench. He gently pressed on her shoulder, and Emma sat down. Killian knelt down in front of her.

“You can’t propose yet, not without my father’s blessing,” she said, her heart hammering in her chest.

“I know,” he said with a small smile. “Would you allow me to…” He stopped, running his hand through his hair. Spots of color stood out on his cheeks. “This is the height of improper, but… would you allow me to touch you?” His eyes flicked down to her lap. “To bring you pleasure?”

“Yes,” Emma said too quickly, and then giggled hysterically. “Please.”

He stood up on his knees, kissing her passionately. “Are you sure?”

“Killian, for the love of--”

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled against her lips, and then sat back on his heels again. He slowly brought his hand under the hem of her dress, trailing his fingertips up her stocking-clad leg. First her calf, then her knee, then her thigh, and Emma spread her legs for him, her eyes closing. She was breathing so fast, her heart close to hammering its way out of her chest, she was certain of it. With every inch higher his fingers crept, she felt closer and closer to spontaneously combusting right there in front of that stupid piano. 

When Killian reached the top of her stocking, she felt him trace the edge of it, where the hem met her bare skin, and all she could hear was his harsh breathing. “I can’t wait to look at you in naught but these stockings,” he said, his voice raspy with desire. Emma just nodded in agreement. She couldn’t wait either.

“Scoot forward a bit, my love,” he said, and she did, balancing somewhat precariously on the edge of the seat and using her arms to brace herself. Then the tips of his fingers touched her most intimate of places, and Emma gasped, stifling a moan that threatened to burst out of her throat.

This was nothing like when she touched herself. This was a revelation.

“Gods, darling, you’re so wet,” Killian said.

“Sorry,” she said, suddenly terrified that he would find her body off-putting. She had no idea what it was supposed to be like. Perhaps hers was wrong somehow, and he would have to very kindly let her know it.

Killian rose up on his knees again, cupping her face even has his fingers continued to stroke her underneath her shift. “Love, no, it’s nothing to apologize for. It’s wonderful.” He kissed her. “You’re perfect, and so bloody sexy, and all I can think about is how badly I want to…” He bit off his words, even as his fingers kept up their rhythmic stroking, circling that little nub of flesh that Emma herself had found gave her the most intense pleasure.

“What?” she asked. “Tell me.”

His jaw clenched. “I want to bury my cock inside you,” he said, the words tumbling out seemingly against his will. “Right here.” He probed carefully with his index finger, and then she felt it slide slowly into her body. Emma gasped again, her throat parched with the way she’d been breathing harshly through her mouth.

“Am I hurting you?” he asked. She shook her head, and tentatively swiveled her hips, riding his finger. It was so intimate, being with a man like this, letting him explore her body where no one ever had. 

“It feels good,” she told him. Letting go of the piano bench, she wrapped her arms around his neck, needing to be closer to the man she loved so that she didn’t feel so very exposed. He kissed her and then readjusted his hand so that his thumb could continue to work at that nub of flesh while his finger pressed deep inside. He crooked his finger, and she felt a deep almost-painful pleasure that made her legs start to tremble. Killian didn’t let up, rubbing and pushing in that perfect rhythm until she shattered, biting her lip hard to keep from moaning audibly and alerting any guards to their presence.

“Holy mother of…” she said finally as he carefully withdrew his hand from between her legs.

He chuckled faintly, looking shocked, either because of what he’d done or because of the way she reacted. She felt self-conscious again, hoping she hadn’t done anything weird.

“Was that… okay?” she asked.

“I should be asking you that,” he said, his cheeks still adorably pink.

“Yeah, I…” she laughed. “That was what I needed.”

Killian cupped her cheeks, kissing her gently. Emma could smell herself on the fingers that had touched her, which maybe she should have found unpleasant, but she definitely did not. It made another swell of desire roll over in her abdomen, the thought that what he had done had left traces of her on his skin. “You’re beautiful when you climax, darling.”

She blushed. “Really? You could tell when I…?”

He nodded, still planting little kisses on her lips, her cheek, the tip of her nose. “I could feel it,” he said. “I want to spend the rest of my life making your body do that.”

“I told you not to propose to me yet,” she said, grinning, and then looked down at the front of his trousers. “Do you need me to--”

Killian stood, adjusting himself and grimacing. “No, I’ll be fine, love, just give me a moment.”

“We probably shouldn’t stay in here any longer or Granny might actually realize we’re not where we’re supposed to be.” Standing and smoothing out her dress, Emma hoped she didn’t look as shaken as she felt. Her knees wobbled a little, and she was overly aware of the sticky sensation between her thighs. She’d be able to think of nothing else but this all day, she was sure of it.

Brushing his lips against hers briefly, Killian led her toward the door. “Shall we go do something wholesome, then? Perhaps a rematch in Parcheesi?”

Emma groaned. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Smutty CS prompt: Stealthy handjob/blowjob.
> 
> My notes: Anon, I hope this qualifies as stealthy. This is a continuation of Parcheesi, my Lieutenant Duckling AU prompt fic that is basically turning into a long treatise on Princess Emma’s voyage of sexual discovery.

There was a knock on Emma’s bedchamber door. She ignored it. She was far too busy staring at the wall.

“I know you’re there, Emma!” It was her Aunt Ruby’s voice. “Let me in!”

With a heavy sigh, Emma stood up and dragged herself over to the door, opening it. “What?”

Her mother’s best friend eyed her critically. “You aren’t even dressed. It’s almost noon.”

“I have a cold.”

“No, you don’t. You have a case of self-pity, which is not the same thing as a cold.” Ruby pushed her way into the room. “Come on, get dressed and then we’ll go for a walk. You can angrily shoot arrows at targets while I watch. I used to do that with your mother all the time.”

Emma flopped down on her bed. “I don’t feel like it.”

“You’d think he was going to be gone for four years. It’s four months. You can survive four months.”

“It’s forever,” Emma replied because it truly did feel that way. An eternity until she would see Killian again. 

“Gods, you’re so young. Think of it this way, maybe you’ll get better at writing love letters before the end of it.”

Shooting up from her prone position, Emma saw that Ruby was reading from a piece of stationary on Emma’s desk. Her cheeks aflame, Emma reached out toward her. “Don’t read that.”

“Too late.” Ruby put the half-finished letter aside and came over and sat down next to her. “I know, it’s unlucky that he got deployed right after your engagement was announced, but I promise the time will fly by. You can concentrate on planning the wedding and before you know it, your love will be back in your arms.”

Things had gone according to plan, at least at first. Killian did get his promotion, and he did meet with her parents while she nervously paced outside the throne room, biting her fingernails down to nubs. When the meeting went longer than twenty minutes, Emma was convinced that somehow something had gone horribly wrong and that their match would be refused, but she should have had more faith in her parents. As soon as they confirmed with her that Killian was truly her choice, they approved of the engagement. She’d never been happier than the moment when Killian had dropped down onto one knee and asked her to be his wife.

Just as she’d never been more gutted than when he told her a few days later that his ship was going to Arendelle on a peacekeeping mission, and that it would likely be four months before he returned.

Emma had raged at her father, jumping to the conclusion that he’d changed his mind and had arranged to have Killian removed from the kingdom, but he patiently explained that the mission to Arendelle had been in the works for months, long before he knew that she’d fallen in love with the dashing young Lieutenant Commander who served on Misthaven’s flagship.

“You’ve got to stop moping around,” Ruby continued. “The more you mope, the worse it will be.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “Wait… is there more to this? Are you pregnant? Emma, if you’re pregnant, then tell me now.”

Emma leapt up and whirled around, hands on her hips. “I’m not _pregnant_. We haven’t… I’m still a maiden.” Emma felt a disproportionate wave of indignation, given what she and Killian had been getting up to, stealing away into empty rooms in the palace every chance they got.

“All right, sorry, but I had to ask. Look, Emma, Granny’s not as clueless as you seem to think she is. You may still be a maiden, but I know you’re not completely innocent. Unless you’ve been sneaking him out of the parlor to have illicit sword fights. And I mean that in a non-euphemistic sense.”

Blushing, Emma didn’t respond. 

“I don’t blame you; he’s a tasty morsel if I’ve ever seen one, so no judgment if you’ve let him under your skirts.”

Emma grimaced and closed her eyes. 

“You have,” Ruby concluded. “Well, good on you, girl. Just because you’re a princess, doesn’t mean you have to go to your wedding night a complete novice.”

“I just…” She hadn’t wanted to talk about this, not under pain of death, but maybe it would be nice to have someone to confide in about her feelings. She sat down next to her aunt on the bed again. “It’s all I can think about when we’re together. Or for that matter, when we’re not together. It’s like my body is totally out of my control. He kisses me, and suddenly…”

“Suddenly it’s like you could drown a puppy down there?” Ruby said, pointing to the junction of her own thighs. 

“Ruby, oh my gods,” Emma shrieked, covering her face.

“Am I wrong?”

“No,” Emma said through her hands.

“So is he good at getting you off?”

“I can’t talk about this,” she said, flopping back on the bed. 

“Emma, you hold a very scrutinized position in this kingdom, and because the patriarchy is terrible, there’s an expectation that you go to the altar a virgin. Even your parents expect it, and I know for a fact that they fooled around before they were married.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “Really?”

“Yes, but don’t tell them I told you.” She pointed a finger at Emma. “My point is, this whole power structure leads to people ending up in relationships where they don’t realize until it’s too late that they aren’t compatible in the bedroom, and usually it’s the woman who suffers because our bodies are magical and complex and men are garbage. So I’m not asking if Killian can get you off because I’m nosy, although _I am_. I’m asking because I want to make sure you’re going to be happy with this man.”

“Oh.” Emma pondered that, and it occurred to her for the first time that she may have gotten very lucky in that respect. “Okay. Well, he can… do that. He’s… I’m happy… with… that stuff,” she said, still supremely uncomfortable with the topic of conversation.

“Excellent. Do you have any questions I can answer? While you’re blushing like that, you might as well get all your questions on the table.”

Emma breathed out slowly, trying to calm herself down. “Is it true that it hurts the first time? It must, right?”

Ruby shrugged. “Sure, but it doesn’t hurt a lot or for very long if you’re doing it right.”

“How do we do it right?”

Smirking, Ruby patted her knee. “Sounds like you’re halfway there if he’s already making you come with his… hands? Mouth?”

“Hands,” Emma blurted.

“So as long as you’re relaxed and ready for it and he goes slow at first, you’ll be fine. It might hurt a little bit, but soon it will start to feel good, even the first time. Don’t worry.”

Emma replayed what Ruby had said before that in her head. “Wait… did you say mouth?”

The grin that broke out on Ruby’s face was wolfish “Oh yeah. Get that boy’s head between your legs, Emma. It will change your life.”

“Oh.” She could hardly imagine it. That was a thing that people did?

“And you can reciprocate.” 

Emma was beyond blushing now; she just stared wide-eyed at her aunt. “With my… mouth?”

“You’ll blow his mind, Emma, among other things. If he didn’t consider himself the luckiest man in the kingdom before, he definitely will with the princess on her knees in front of him.”

The image of herself like that flashed in her imagination with perfect clarity, and she squeezed her thighs together under her nightdress. “I don’t think my mother would approve of you teaching me these things, Aunt Ruby.”

“Yeah, well, your mother should be thanking me if it keeps a baby out of your belly before you marry that boy,” Ruby said. 

“He’s not a _boy_. He’s two and twenty.”

“Sorry, Emma, but to me, Lieutenant Commander Cupcake is definitely a boy.” She smiled warmly. “But he’s yours and you love him, and he clearly thinks the world of you, so I’m happy. May you have a long and happy life together.”

“I miss him,” Emma said in a small voice.

“I know.” Ruby smacked Emma’s knee with a little more force. “Come on, sweetheart, on your feet. I’m going to cheer you up if it kills me.”

~*~

Emma paced back and forth across the worn floorboards of the hunting lodge, wringing her gloved hands together. She’d built a fire in the fireplace because it was too chilly in the high-ceilinged cabin without one, but she knew it was a risky choice given that she had basically snuck out of the palace. Ruby was ready with an excuse were her absence noted, but she couldn’t necessarily count on that working, and she worried that smoke from the hunting lodge’s chimney might lead anyone searching right to her. 

The sound of approaching hoofbeats reached her ears, and Emma’s anxiety level rose ten-fold. This was it. He was here. She peeked out of the window and spotted her fiance tethering his horse to the hitching post next to where her roan gelding stood placidly. Her heart raced as she gazed at the shape of his shoulders in the brown cloak he wore. Gods, but he was handsome. 

Finally, the door opened, and Killian rushed inside with a swirl of snow as the cold from outside met warm space of the cabin and created a complicated eddy of air.

“You got my message,” Emma said breathlessly.

“Aye,” he said, shaking the snow from his cloak. “And I set off straight away, but are you sure about this, love? If anyone realizes we are here together unsupervised--”

“It’s fine, Aunt Ruby is covering for me.” She rushed into his arms, making Killian grunt as he caught her collision straight in the chest. “I missed you,” she said, her words muffled against his shoulder.

Emma had been able to see Killian only twice since his return to Misthaven. She had greeted him at the dock when his ship finally arrived back in port, but under the watchful gaze of his shipmates and a royal honor guard, she couldn’t very well welcome him home the way she wanted to. In the days since, he had joined her for a formal dinner with her parents and some other visiting dignitaries at the palace, but her vivid imaginings of him sweeping the expensive china and crystal off the table with a crash and having her between the beef course and dessert had also not come to fruition. She was sick of waiting, and so she had taken matters into her own hands, sending him a letter asking him to meet her at the royal hunting lodge. It was a dangerous endeavor, but just being able to hug him made it worth it.

“I missed you, too, my love,” he murmured into her hair. “I read every letter you wrote to me over and over again.”

“Me too.” She hadn’t been able to write what she really wanted to, fearing someone else might read the contents of her letters. She’d wanted to tell him how much she missed his lips on her skin and his hands under her skirt. That she lay in bed at night and imagined that he was there with her, kissing her, calloused hands trailing over her body. (She wouldn’t have told him of the way she touched herself while thinking of him, but she had, more times than she could count.)

Their wedding was still two months away, on the first day of spring. After the wait just to look upon his face, waiting another two months to be with him fully was more than she could bear. 

“Killian,” she gasped, just before their lips met. She poured all of the passion of all of those lonely months into the kiss, thrusting her tongue into his mouth as she gripped the hair at the nape of his neck, pressing herself as closely against his body as she could. She’d worn her simplest dress underneath a voluminous cloak of Ruby’s, and just the sensation of her nipples brushing against the fabric of her dress was making her crazy.

“I thought about you every hour of every day,” Killian said, his mouth trailing down from hers to drag against her throat. His hands pressed hard against her back, keeping her close. “Every night I fell asleep with thoughts of holding you like this.”

Emma giggled. “Exactly like this?”

“Well, perhaps with fewer clothes on,” he whispered into her ear, making her shudder. “I imagined you in my bed.”

“I imagined that too,” she answered, pressing her hips forward against his thigh. “It drove me to distraction.”

She could feel Killian’s erection against her stomach, and gods, she just wanted him inside her. Any fear she might have of losing her virginity was buried underneath an overwhelming desire to have their bodies joined together.

“Killian,” she said, making up her mind, “I want you to make love to me.”

He jerked his head back, looking her in the eyes. “We can’t, love.”

“Our wedding is in two months. Even if you were to get me with child, no one would know. They might suspect when the baby came a little early, but--”

“There would be gossip, and I won’t put you through that just to slake my own thirst.”

She laughed, but there was a hard edge to it. “You aren’t the only one who’s thirsty.”

He guided her over to a chair and urged her to sit, and then he knelt at her feet. “There is literally nothing in the world that I want more, Emma, but I don’t want any child we create to ever have to wonder, I don’t want _anyone_ to wonder if I married you only because I had to.”

Emma felt a little bit like crying, but she didn’t want Killian to think she was so silly as to be brought to tears over a lack of sexual satisfaction. “You’re right,” she sighed, and then leaned over and met him in another hug, pressing her forehead against his. “You were gone so long.”

“I know. I never want to be apart from you like that again,” he said.

She knew that wasn’t necessarily a commitment he could make. Killian was a naval officer, and there would be other separations. Emma just hoped they were far in the future.

“Now,” he said with a change in the timbre of his voice that made her shiver. He smiled, and Emma felt his hand on her leg. “Let’s see if there’s something I can do to quench your thirst.”

~*~

Her thirst was getting quenched, but Killian’s gentlemanliness was leaving him parched.

While Emma wasn’t concerned that Killian didn’t want her -- she’d felt the evidence of his desire many times, pressed against her body or under her questing fingers -- he always insisted that they stop before he could lose control. She wasn’t sure if it was some form of misplaced chivalry, but she worried that perhaps he’d had her on too high a pedestal for too long. If so, that needed to change, preferably before their wedding night.

An opportunity arose one evening when her parents had invited him to dine with them, as they did at least twice a week now that the wedding was drawing near. As the plates from the main course were cleared away, Emma excused herself to go use the toilet. Hurrying back toward the dining room, she spotted Killian standing in the hallway and admiring a painting, no doubt excused from the table to wander about before dessert and coffee were served. Her mother always wanted a break before the dessert course, something Emma had found interminable as a child.

Today, it was operating in her favor. 

“Come here,” she whispered, grabbing his hand and pulling him through the nearest doorway, which happened to be a storage closet for the dining room. Emma stared up at the shelves (one of them contained nothing but candlesticks) and wondered why she’d never noticed this room before.

“Emma, love, what are we doing in here?” Killian whispered. She’d closed the door behind them, but the dining room was literally right across the hall. Emma could hear the distinct sound of her father laughing at something.

“I couldn’t wait any longer to kiss you,” she answered, pulling him close and doing just that. 

Killian hummed into her mouth, seemingly pleased, and returned her fervor with some of his own. The closet was L-shaped, and as they kissed, Emma backed them up until the door was no longer visible. It wouldn’t hide them completely, should one of the servants walk in, but it might give them a couple of seconds to make themselves presentable.

“I need to tell you something,” Emma said.

Killian blinked lazily at her. “What’s that?”

“I need you to know that with you, I’m not a princess. You used to know that when we were kids, but I think maybe you’ve forgotten. I’m your best friend, and lover, and soon I’ll be your wife. But I’m not a princess and I’m definitely not any kind of saint.”

His brow furrowed. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because our liaisons have been a little… one-sided.”

“Oh.” In the dim light, she could just make out the blush on his cheeks. “I just haven’t wanted to sully you with my… baser desires.”

“But you’ve let me sully you with _my_ baser desires. A lot. I want to return the favor.” She let her fingers drift down to the front of his trousers, and she felt a twitch there. Pressing with her hand, she stroked up and down, and his cock rose to attention under her palm like magic.

“Emma,” he moaned softly, “we can’t do this now.”

“Yes, we can.” She brushed her lips against his and then began unbuttoning his trousers. “Please? May I?”

Killian’s head fell back against the shelf behind him, his eyes squeezed shut. “Do your worst, madam.”

Emma finished with all the buttons, pulling the placket aside and looking down at what she’d exposed. 

He had curly hair down there, just like she did but darker, and jutting proudly from his thatch of pubic hair was his cock, thick and flushed pink. It was veiny and kind of odd-looking, she thought, but the sight of it still inspired a flood of desire within her. Experimentally, Emma closed her fist around it and moved her hand down to the base, then back out to the tip. Killian bit his lip and stifled a moan, his eyes still resolutely closed. 

Feeling out of her depth, Emma kept stroking him, uncertain if what she was doing would make him climax, and if so how long it would take. “Is this… good?” she asked after a minute.

Tilting his head toward her, he threaded his hand into her hair and brought her close for a kiss. His other hand closed around hers on his cock, squeezing her fingers tighter and encouraging her to move at a quicker pace.

“That’s better?” she asked, and he nodded, but then winced, his eyes popping open.

“I’ll make a mess of your dress, love, you mustn’t…” He trailed off into an almost silent moan. “I can’t--”

Remembering Ruby’s lurid instructions (which had gone into even greater detail in some of their more recent conversations), Emma dropped to her knees, reasoning that he wouldn’t make a mess of anything if he was in her mouth. Coming eye-to-eye with his cock, though (so to speak), she was rather intimidated. 

“Emma.” There was a pleading edge to his voice, but she wasn’t sure if he was pleading for her to stop or to go ahead and do what she was contemplating.

Closing her eyes, Emma leaned forward, letting her lips come in contact with it. First, she just kissed him, starting to get her tongue involved with a few tentative swipes. She had a sudden image of herself enjoying his cock like an ice cream cone, and she had to stifle a giggle.

Looking up at him, she was met with a glazed expression of shock and lust on Killian’s face. “Is this all right?” she asked.

He laughed a little bit manically. “It’s only one of the fantasies that got me through all those months at sea.”

Grinning, Emma returned to her task, taking the whole head of his cock into her mouth and sucking. There was a thump above her as Killian’s head hit the shelf behind him again. She put her hands on his hips, taking more and more of him into her mouth with every pass, so immersed in what she was doing that she didn’t realize she’d gone too deep until she felt herself gag, and she instantly backed off.

“Sorry,” she gasped.

“Here.” Killian took her hand and guided her to grip the base with her fist. Emma got the idea immediately, taking him back into her mouth at a shallower depth and working her mouth and hand in tandem. She felt uncoordinated, trying to remember to suck and use her tongue and her hand and her lips, worrying when her teeth scraped him that she’d done something wrong, but the harsh panting from above indicated maybe she was doing all right.

“Fuck, Emma,” he whispered through clenched teeth, and she’d never heard him use that word, ever, and it did something to her to hear the vulgarity fall from his lips. “I’m… I’m…” His breath came sharply through his teeth, and in that moment she felt his cock pulse in her hand. She’d been afraid she might be unable to swallow -- after talking to Ruby she’d imagined a huge mouthful of his seed -- but she found she was only vaguely aware of it on the back of her tongue, and once she’d let him slip from between her lips, it was easy to swallow. 

All in all, Emma was very proud of herself.

Killian took her hands and helped her to stand, and she winced as she became aware of the pain in her knees from kneeling on the hard floor. She reached down and smoothed out her dress, embarrassed to meet his eyes after what she’d done. Perhaps she didn’t want him to put her on a pedestal, but she didn’t want him to think she was slatternly either. Killian tucked his softening cock into his trousers (and Emma took a moment to marvel again at the male anatomy, that a part of his body could change so visibly and dramatically in so short a time) and busied himself with fastening the buttons.

Before she could figure out what to say, Killian put an arm around her, pulling her close with a hand cupping her cheek. “I love you so bloody much,” he whispered. 

“I love you, too. That’s why I wanted to do that for you. Because I love you. And it’s… exciting, making you feel as good as you make me feel.”

He kissed her, sweet and gentle. “We should get back before we’re missed.”

“Yeah.” She crept over to the door and cracked it open. “Coast is clear. I’ll go first. Don’t follow me. Wait five minutes.”

He nodded and winked. 

Killian rejoined them in the dining room just as dessert was being served, and Emma had to commend him -- he looked remarkably put together for someone who had just gotten fellatio in a closet a few minutes before. He nodded politely to her mother as he took his seat, and was soon in deep conversation with her about different types of coffee that he’d encountered on his travels to different ports. Emma sat demurely with one hand in her lap and took small bites of her spiced cake, smiling secretly to herself.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Hi, could you please write a part 3 of the Lieutenant Duckling smut, where they're finally married and can make love and enjoy each other? please, and thank you
> 
> My notes: Finally, I finished this, hooray! As with everything I’m writing lately, it’s pure filth, albeit fluffy feelsy filth. Enjoy.

Emma lifted her head, flipped her pillow over, and punched it before flopping her head back onto it. She closed her eyes, counting to fifty. She rolled onto her back, pressing the heels of her hands against her eyes hard enough to see spots, groaning in frustration.

There was just no possible way she was going to fall asleep.

Finally, she sat up with a determined frown and swung her feet down onto the cold floor. She reached for the extinguished candle on her bedside table, then thought better of it, leaving it where it was. Emma pulled on her robe and walked over and carefully opened her bedchamber door, listening for the footfalls of a night watchman. Hearing nothing, she slipped out into the passageway.

On the eve of their wedding, Killian had been put in a room in a different wing of the castle, far from Emma’s bedchamber. But after so many years of sneaking down to the kitchen for a midnight snack, it was an easy matter for Emma to avoid the watch’s patrol pattern and make her way to Killian’s bedroom, the location of which she’d made a point of memorizing. Ducking into an alcove and waiting until she was certain she wouldn’t be observed, Emma dashed to the door and carefully opened it, letting herself inside. She locked it behind her.

She heard a fumbling sound, and with her eyes straining in the dim moonlight, she saw Killian’s hand shoot out and knock his candle off the table.

“Who’s there?” he said, his voice raspy with sleep.

“It’s Emma,” she whispered, hurrying over to the bed. “Don’t… raise the alarm or whatever.”

“Emma? What are you doing in here? I’m not supposed to see you, it’s bad luck.”

“I know, sorry, but I couldn’t sleep.”

Killian sat up in bed, completely bare-chested, and Emma gulped at the sight. Reaching out for her, he took her hand and kissed it. “Too excited about tomorrow?”

“Too _nervous_ about tomorrow.”

He smiled at her. “Not nervous that you’ve made the wrong decision, I hope?”

She punched him on the arm and then sat down on the bed at his side. “No. Nervous that something will go wrong, I guess. That I’ll get up in front of all those people and trip and fall into the wedding cake.” Killian chuckled at that. “And… I’m nervous about the wedding night.”

Killian squeezed her hand. “Me too.”

“Why are _you_ nervous? It won’t be your first time,” she said.

“It’ll be my first time with you, Emma. My first time with the woman I love, the woman I intend to spend my life with. My wife,” he added, and the way his voice caught on that word made her heart skip a beat. “Of course I’m nervous.” He pressed his lips against her hand again.

She hesitated for a second and then decided to forge ahead with her original plan. “So let’s get it over with.” And then she winced because that had sounded much better in her head. “I mean, not _get it over with_ because that makes it sound like I’m dreading it and I am definitely not, but if we do it now, then we won’t be distracted during the ceremony worrying about… you know.”

Killian was quiet in answer to her rambling, and Emma bit her lip, waiting for him to say something.

“My love… are you sure that’s what you want? You’d be going to your wedding day no longer--”

“Killian, if you say ‘pure,’ I’m going to smack you. You know how I feel about all that patriarchal nonsense.”

“Aye, and you’d be right to strike me, darling.” He rubbed a hand over his face. “I just don’t want you to do anything you’ll regret.” Chuckling uneasily, he added, “And I think it would be a shame if your father were to find out and murder me mere hours before I am to wed you.”

“I locked the door,” she said, and then inched a little closer to him. “Look, is there really a difference between right now and tomorrow in terms of the commitment we’ve made to each other?”

“No, of course not.” He reached out and touched her cheek, and Emma shivered at the contact. “I love you, Emma, and I will be yours for as long as I live.”

She felt pinpricks of tears behind her eyes at his declaration. She knew what had driven her to sneak into his room was a mixture of lust and pragmatism, but right now it felt like so much more. “I love you, too. And I don’t want to wait another second to share this with you.”

Killian launched himself up from the pillows, taking her in his arms and sealing his mouth forcefully over hers. Hoping that was his answer, Emma brought her feet up onto the bed, letting her momentum carry them down so that she ended up sprawled on top of him as they continued to kiss. He was still under the covers and she was on top of them, and there was a bit of fumbling as they tried to correct that fact without letting their lips part.

Emma still wore her nightgown and robe, she realized, and with a frustrated grunt, she sat up and struggled to untangle herself.

“Let me,” Killian said, his hand gently curling around her shoulder. “Let me undress you, darling.”

Unable to find her voice, Emma nodded.

His fingers deftly worked the knot in her robe before easing it off. Her nightdress was tied with a ribbon at her neck and he pulled it loose, moving aside the neckline. Leaning over, Killian kissed her bare shoulder, and it felt startlingly intimate to have his lips on a part of her they had never before touched. It seemed to affect him profoundly as well, and his movements as he lifted the nightgown up her body and over her head were rushed. Emma shifted her weight to assist him, and before she knew it, she was completely nude.

As much time as they had spent pawing at each other over their clothes, and sometimes under them, Emma still felt terribly exposed, and she moved her arms instinctively to cover her breasts.

“Oh, don’t,” he whispered. “You’re the most beautiful vision I’ve ever seen, let me look at you.”

Hesitantly, Emma lay back, her arms falling to her sides, and let Killian take her in. Cool air and nerves made her shiver, and he gently brought the covers up around them as he settled down beside her.

With a little smirk, Emma rolled toward him and reached for the drawstring of his trousers. “You’re overdressed.”

He laughed in response. “Aye.” She untied the laces and he pulled the sleeping trousers off, tossing them on the floor.

His skin was pale in the moonlight, the hairs that covered his body a stark contrast. She’d seen his cock before, but never in the context of the rest of him, had never been able to let her eyes follow the trail of hair down his abdomen to his erection, jutting proudly toward her now like some kind of divining rod.

Killian gathered her into his arms, and Emma finally felt what it was like to have his bare skin pressed all along the length of hers. She sighed into his mouth with joy at how wonderful it felt. It was like something clicking into place, being with him like this. Like her heart and body were finally in sync.

While they kissed, Emma could feel the wet press of the tip of his cock against her belly, and she couldn’t help but fixate on what it would feel like to have that part of him inside her. She both wanted it desperately and feared it at the same time. Would she be different, afterward? Would people just be able to look at her and know?

As if he sensed her trepidation, Killian’s kisses slowed and his hand rubbed her back, soothing her with his warmth and comforting embrace.

“Emma, if you don’t want this, you can change your mind, darling.”

Shaking her head, she shifted onto her back, letting her legs fall open. “I want this. I trust you.”

He kissed her again. “May I touch you?”

She couldn’t help but giggle. “It’s nothing you haven’t done before.”

Killian’s hand trailed down her belly. “I know, but it’s different now,” he said. He skimmed past her sex and cupped her inner thigh. “Isn’t it?”

“Yes,” she said breathlessly because it did, it felt so different from those times with his hand under her skirts. She felt more vulnerable, naked and in his bed as his fingers inched up and came in contact with her folds. The slick way his fingers moved against her skin made her aware of how wet she was, her body anticipating and needing him. At least now she knew that he found the wetness arousing.

“You feel so good, love,” and Emma stifled a moan as he began to stroke her with more purpose. “So ready for me.”

“Yes, I’m ready, Killian.” She couldn’t help but writhe against his fingers, her hips moving instinctually as he slid one finger into her easily.

“There’s no rush, Emma. I want this to feel as good for you as I can make it. All right?”

Nodding, she closed her eyes and concentrated on the sensations his fingers were creating between her legs. He focused more and more on that tiny nub of flesh that made pleasure radiate out like sunlight inside her veins, and very quickly she felt the tell-tale sparks of an impending orgasm. She almost didn’t want it to happen, wanted to save it until their bodies were truly joined, but something about being in bed with him, their naked bodies close together, seemed to heighten the experience of being touched so intimately and her climax crested over almost against her will. Emma bit her lip, the only noise coming from her throat a choked off squeak.

“I love it when you come,” Killian murmured, his lips brushing across her sweaty brow. His fingers continued to stroke her down below, stimulating her over-sensitive flesh, and then he adjusted his hand and Emma felt the pressure of being entered again, this time with what seemed like two fingers. She gasped.

“Does that feel okay?” he asked.

It didn’t hurt, but it was more of an intrusion than she’d ever experienced, so it felt slightly strange. Emma hesitated, and then she nodded.

He continued to gently move his fingers in and out, and her body quickly accommodated them. Emma felt renewed desire and pleasure, and she moved her hand to Killian’s cheek, stretching up to kiss him. “Make love to me. Please.”

Killian seemed to tremble as he positioned himself above her and she spread her legs to bracket his hips. The first touch of his cock sliding across her folds made both of them moan.

“We need to stay quiet,” she whispered, and he nodded.

“I know, but gods, I’ve dreamed of this moment for so long, and you feel so good.”

He continued to just thrust against her, not pushing inside, and as lovely as that felt, Emma wondered what he was waiting for. She felt uncertain, like maybe there was something she should do to allow him entrance that she didn’t know about. “Killian--”

“Can I?” he said at the same time she spoke his name. Emma nodded. Propping himself over her with one arm, he reached down and took himself in hand, and then she felt the tip right against her opening. For some reason, it hadn’t occurred to her that he might need to direct the angle of his cock with his hand, and Emma almost giggled at her own naivete. It felt huge, like there was no way it would fit inside her, and that same mixture of anticipation and fear swelled in her chest. Then he was pushing and there was pressure, and then a sharp twinge as the head of his cock slipped inside. Emma gasped, and Killian stopped.

“Does it hurt?”

She felt a burning at the way her body was being stretched, but it wasn’t terrible. “A little, but it’s okay. Keep going.”

Very slowly, he pushed inside her, and the slight pain persisted but something about it also felt good, like nerves that his fingers couldn’t reach were being stimulated by the size and length of him. She was almost surprised when she felt his hips come up flush with hers and she realized he was all the way in.

With panting breath, Emma opened her eyes and looked at him. She felt full and strangely complete in a way she never had before. Their bodies were like puzzle pieces, finally put together after so many months of being separate parts of a whole.

“I love you,” he said, and she felt him move just a bit as he pinned her down with his hips.

“I love you,” Emma answered. “I’m so glad it’s you.”

He moved then, pulling out and pushing back in and Emma gasped again. A few more shallow strokes and the pain was almost gone.

“Oh,” she said, and she could hear the surprise in her own voice. Having him inside her like this was everything she had wanted since she had fallen in love with him. “Oh.” Again as he pulled out a little farther and pressed back inside with more force. Every time felt better and better.

“All right?” His voice was strained and breathy.

“Yes, gods, it’s… yes.” She spread her legs wider and clung to him, giving herself over to the rhythm of his movement. 

Killian didn’t last long, his back arching and a pained grimace on his face as he climaxed. Emma was a little disappointed it had been so quick, but then she remembered how excited she’d been and how quickly she’d come from just his fingers, so she could sympathize with his lack of stamina. As he pulled out, Emma felt a little stinging twinge of pain between her legs, and she pressed her thighs together. Rolling onto her side, she felt a flood a moisture run out onto the inside of her leg, and she grimaced. Sex was strange and messy, she thought as she tried to get comfortable, but it was also wonderful and sort of life-changing.

“Are you all right?” Killian asked, his hand coming up to caress her cheek.

She snuggled close to his chest, kissing him tenderly. “I’m… good. And looking forward to doing that again.”

He grinned. “Less nervous about tomorrow, I hope?”

Pondering that, she nodded. “Yes, I suppose I am. But I wish I didn’t have to sneak back to my bedchamber.” She felt bereft at the thought. After such an intimate act, the last thing she wanted to do was leave Killian and return to her own bed alone. She needed the comfort of his arms around her, cradling her through the night.

“This is the last time we’ll have to sleep apart,” he assured her, kissing her forehead. “After tomorrow, there’ll be no getting rid of me.”

“Promise?”

“Aye.”

~*~

“You’re going to look so beautiful, Emma,” Snow said, carefully fingering the embroidery on the wedding dress in the morning sunlight. It hung on the door of her wardrobe, ready to be put on. “Are you excited?”

Emma took a sip of her tea, then returned to brushing out her long hair. She _was_ excited, but the lack of sleep made it challenging to match her mother’s energy level. “I’m excited.”

Snow’s face fell a little bit. “You don’t seem excited.”

“I am, I am, I’m just…” It was impossible to articulate how she felt. Sitting there at her dressing table, she was aware of a slight soreness between her legs, and it just made her feel all the more like the fact that she’d given up her maidenhead a day early would be obvious to anyone who looked at her. “Nervous.”

Snow eyed her, and Emma could tell there was something on her mind. Her mother took a deep breath. “We should talk about tonight,” she blurted. “The wedding night. You know.” She wrung her hands together.

Emma’s eyes widened. “Are you really going to bring up sex with me at the very last possible moment to bring it up?”

“Sorry, but this is hard for me, talking about this sort of thing with my only daughter. You’re still a little girl to me in a lot of ways.”

A surge of anger surprised Emma with its ferocity. The idea that without Ruby, she would have been left all alone to try to figure out her physical reaction to Killian and how to navigate that aspect of their relationship suddenly made her furious. “Well, I’m not a little girl. Killian and I have already done things together,” she blurted.

Snow crossed her arms and frowned. “What _things_?”

She felt a perverse sort of thrill at the idea of shocking her mother, although if what Ruby had said was true, it was nothing she herself hadn’t done. “I’ve been physical with him,” she said vaguely, thinking more of their months of stolen moments in empty rooms in the castle than of the night before.

She expected shock or anger or both, but what she got were her mother’s eyes glassy with tears. “I should have been here for you before this,” she said.

Emma shrugged. “Ruby was here for me,” she said, unable to resist getting another dig in.

“That’s hardly comforting,” Snow said, sinking down onto the bed.

“I’m just saying, you’re off the hook,” Emma said to the mirror as she brushed her hair.

“I don’t want to be off the hook. I’m your mother, and I failed you.”

Turning around and looking at Snow face-to-face, all of Emma’s anger melted away and was replaced by guilt for making her mother feel bad. “I’m sorry.”

“Is he… kind to you? And giving?” Snow asked timidly.

“Very giving.” Emma experienced a visceral flash of memory, of the way he’d once hiked her skirts up and let her wrap her legs around him, grinding his hardness against her until she’d had a powerful, shuddering climax against the wall in an alcove behind the armory.

“Good.”

“I didn’t know loving someone could feel this way,” Emma said. “I thought I loved Baelfire, but it was nothing like this.”

“It was destined to be,” Snow said with a dreamy look in her eye. “From the day he saved your life--”

“He didn’t save my life--”

“The day he pulled you out of the water then,” Snow said. “You were destined to fall in love.”

Emma shrugged. “Maybe.”

“Do you know when you first realized you were in love with him?”

“Realized it? I don’t think I actually realized it until the first time we kissed, but I’m pretty sure I was done for when I was fifteen and he put on that naval uniform the first time.”

Snow giggled. “Men do look good in uniform.”

~*~

Indeed, the sight of him at the altar in his formal dress uniform took Emma’s breath away.

The ceremony went by in a blur, and Emma was hard-pressed to remember the details later. She remembered the way her hands trembled, the shaking of the delicate flowers of her bouquet making it terribly obvious. She remembered struggling to repeat the words she was supposed to say as she got lost in the blue of Killian’s eyes. She remembered his voice catching as he said his vows, and that catch making her own tears flow. She remembered the warmth of his lips as he leaned in and gave her a chaste kiss. She remembered the blur of happy faces as they walked back down the aisle as husband and wife.

The receiving line that followed was boring and exhausting but the ball was fun, at least in that she got to dance almost every dance with her new husband, save the one reserved for her father and a few more that she was diplomatically obligated to share with visiting royalty from neighboring kingdoms.

“Are you happy?” her father David had asked as they spun around the room.

“Very happy.”

“I can tell; you’re positively glowing today. There’s already something different about you.”

Emma had blushed at that, her head immediately filling with images of the night before.

The ball went by so quickly that she was almost surprised when one of her ladies-in-waiting said it was time for them to go.

They had a honeymoon on the coast to look forward to, but this first night was going to be spent at the very hunting lodge that they’d once stolen away to, an easy ride from the castle since they knew they’d be too tired and it would be too late to embark on a long trip immediately after the wedding.

“Oh, thank the gods, there’s food,” Emma said as they walked into the main room, where a servant had set out a selection of fruits and cheeses for them in front of the fireplace in which a lively fire danced. Someone who knew she would barely have time to eat at her own wedding must have arranged for the spread, and Emma would have gladly kissed whoever that was.

She caught Killian staring at her as she ate, and she swiped at her mouth with a napkin in case she’d made a mess of herself. “What?”

He smiled. “Nothing, just… you’re my wife.”

She grinned back. “Yeah.”

When they had slaked their hunger for food, Emma stood and held her hand out for her husband. “Let’s go to bed,” she said, and his expression shifted to lustful in an instant.

“I thought you’d never ask.”

They undressed each other slowly, removing the traveling clothes that they had dutifully changed into even though she would have better enjoyed watching Killian peel off his officer’s uniform, just as she would have preferred to feel his hands unlacing the stays on her wedding dress. But there was a protocol to these things, and at least in this case, they had followed it.

Emma was alight with desire as he leaned over and took her nipple between his lips, his tongue flicking it and making her moan. The staff who had readied the hunting lodge for them had returned to the castle, and they could make as much noise as they wanted.

“Do you regret last night?” he asked hesitantly as he lowered her to the bed, his body covering her and caging her in. In the firelight, she could see everything more clearly, but she wasn’t as nervous about being bare in front of him this time.

Emma shook her head, smiling up at him. “Not even a little.” Killian moved his hips against hers, his cock dragging against her flesh, and she winced.

“Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she said quickly, not wanting to mar this perfect night, but he gave her look that said he didn’t believe her. “I’m the tiniest bit sore, but not enough to matter. I want to make love to my husband.”

Killian planted a line of open-mouthed kisses down her throat, his teeth scraping against her collarbone. “Let me make sure you’re ready first,” he said, a dark rasp in his voice, and then he began working his way down her body, his mouth focusing on her breasts for a while before he covered her flat stomach with little sucking kisses.

His intent became more than clear when he positioned himself lower on the bed, his shoulders spreading her legs apart. Emma couldn’t believe the way he was examining her sex so closely, and she felt the urge to close her legs to his scrutiny, but she held herself still.

“Relax, darling,” Killian said, no doubt noticing that she was tense. “I’m merely going to service you the way you did for me in that closet a few weeks ago. When I had to go make conversation with your mother over dessert while all I could think of was the way you looked with my cock in your mouth.” He placed a closed-mouth kiss right over her opening, and Emma gasped, her leg twitching. “I’ve fantasized about this so many times,” he murmured, and the tickle of his breath on her skin made her tremble. “I’ve caught your scent on my fingers and wished for the freedom to taste you and pleasure you the way you deserve.”

He licked her then, the flat of his tongue running all the way up between her legs, and Emma cried out. Humming with satisfaction, Killian’s lips pressed against her pleasure center, that nub of flesh that was so sensitive. “Now that you’re my wife, I intend to give you every pleasure your body can stand. Is that something you want, Emma?”

“Yes,” she whispered, shuddering as his tongue swept over her again. “Oh, yes.”

She sank into a pool of liquid pleasure after that, losing all sense of embarrassment about the way her husband was acquainting himself with her body as he worked so diligently at his task. At some point, she felt his fingers on her, then inside her, and the combined sensations brought a series of nonsense sounds from her mouth.

When he stopped, Emma almost screamed in frustration, her thighs shaking, her body positively thrumming with need. She wanted him to keep going, wanted to push his face back down between her legs and make him keep licking her until she climaxed, but then he was up and kneeling between her legs and before she knew it he was pushing his cock inside.

It was easier than the night before, the discomfort less, especially now that she was so aroused. Killian again took it slow, working inside her inch by slow inch, staying up on his knees this time instead of stretched out over her like he had been the night before. Emma took the opportunity to watch the way his abdominal muscles flexed as he fucked into her, the way the muscles in his forearms moved as he clutched her hips.

“Killian, you feel so good,” she gasped, her hips circling even as he held himself still, buried to the hilt and straining for control. “Gods, I’m so close, please, oh gods, I need, I need…”

He pressed his thumb down accurately against her tiny bud just as he started to move, and Emma writhed and gasped, aware of every thick slide, every circle of his talented fingers.

Her orgasm was shattering, and Emma cried out loudly as she rode the waves of it, the intensity of which she’d never experienced. She was barely aware of Killian falling just after she did. By the time she became conscious of anything but white-hot pleasure, he was carefully pulling out.

Emma lay unmoving as Killian collapsed at her side with a huff of breath.

“That was… amazing,” she said finally, her throat dry and uncomfortable. “Was it amazing for you?” she asked, turning her head but the rest of her body unmoving

“Aye.” He reached over and pulled her close. Shifting her bottom a little, she felt a wet spot on the sheets and tried to position herself to avoid it. She wished she’d thought to ask Ruby what to do about the fact that things got so sticky afterward. “It was unbelievable,” he added, and then noticed her squirming. “What’s the matter?”

Emma blushed. “There’s a wet spot on the sheets,” she said with a grimace. Why couldn’t these realities of their bodies be whisked away somehow with a magic spell?

“Ah. Hang on just a moment.” He levered himself out of bed, and Emma watched his naked form greedily as he went over to the washbasin and picked up a cloth. Returning to bed, he wiped between her legs gently, and once again Emma was dumbfounded at the intimacy between them. She’d thought many times about what sex would feel like, but never about what it would be like to have a man be so casually intimate with her body in other ways. She decided she quite liked it.

“Shift over,” he said, settling down where she’d been lying when she followed his direction.

“Then you’re just on the wet spot,” Emma pointed out as Killian arranged the blankets over them both.

“I don’t care, love. I’m about to spend the night with my wife in my arms. I couldn’t possibly be happier or more content than I am right now.”

Emma curled into him, relaxing into his embrace. “Me too.” She traced a finger down from the hollow of his throat to his chest. “Although if you want to wake up and do that again in a few hours, I probably wouldn’t be opposed.”

His gentle laugh was like warm syrup. “Have I mentioned how much I adore that you’re insatiable in the bedchamber?”

“No, but I assumed.” Yawning, Emma shifted against him and felt sleep weighing her eyelids down. “Sex is just so much fun.”

“Better than Parcheesi, even?” he asked, and she could hear the smile in his voice.

Slapping his chest, Emma closed her eyes. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

“I do.”


End file.
